


Control

by Below_Average_Fangirl



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Begging, Betaed, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Below_Average_Fangirl/pseuds/Below_Average_Fangirl
Summary: Dredd. Striptease. Make him Beg
Relationships: Joseph Dredd/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Killermanatee for doing Beta work on this and helping to make to it 10 times better.

As soon as Clare hears the first loud distinctive knock at the door she knows who's on the other side. It isn’t until the sound of the third and final knock drifts away, that she stands, picking up her glass of red wine from the small table beside her chair making her way to the door. Her hand hovers over the doorknob as she takes a sip of wine, waiting, in no hurry to show her eagerness at seeing him again. Only when she hears his retreating footsteps in the hallway does she open the door.

“You’re late,” she says, leaning against the door frame, sipping her wine. 

Dredd stops but doesn’t turn to look at her. “Was on a job,” is his gruff reply.

“For three months.” There is no movement from Dredd as she continues, “I mean you didn’t write, you didn’t call. A bit presumptuous of you to assume I would be on my own tonight.”

In silence, Dredd turns to face Clare and stalks towards her. Most women would be intimidated by the sight of a 6’1, 205lb Judge bearing down on them, invading their personal space but Clare is not most women. Calmly she drains her glass of wine. The air between them is thick, and heavy with lust and anticipation. The Judges helmet may stop Clare from seeing his eyes, but she can feel the way he is looking at her, no doubt desperate to put his mouth to hers and wipe away the wine stain from her lips. 

“You step over this threshold and you’re mine. You obey me. Understand.” It is not a question. 

He answers nonetheless. “Yes, ma’am.” 

The corners of her lips twitch in a wicked smile, and she turns away from him making her way to the kitchen. 

“Remove only your holster and wait for me in the armchair in the living room,” she instructs as she saunters away, her hips making the silk of her camisole sway gently. 

From the kitchen, she can hear the soft clicks of Dredd undoing his thigh holster and the small creaks of leather from his uniform as he sits down. Refilling her glass, Clare smiles to herself, excited to have him here at last, and to get the chance to play with him. With ease, she slips into her role for the night.

Returning to the living room, glass in hand, she finds Dredd sitting as requested in the armchair, his pose reminding her of a picture she’d once seen in a school textbook of the Lincoln Memorial. Setting the glass of wine on the table beside the chair Clare lifts her nightdress slightly, and hooks her thumbs in the elastic of her panties, removing them before straddling his lap. Dredd doesn’t reach for her, and he wouldn’t until she gives him permission, and he is going to have to ask nicely for that. 

Her hands resting on his chest she begins questioning him. “Do you think it’s acceptable to neglect me for three months?” 

“Couldn’t be helped.” 

Clare raises an eyebrow at his simple and unapologetic reply. He is in the mood to resist her tonight which makes breaking him all the more fun. 

“That is not a satisfactory answer. So I will ask again. Do you think it acceptable to neglect me, to not serve my needs?”

Dredd’s mouth twists into a small smile. “I know that ma’am is very much capable of satisfying her own needs.” 

But his smile soon disappears when Clare shifts position in his lap so that a knee is between his legs, pressing into his crotch. She reaches for her glass.

“In that case,” she purrs, slipping her other hand under the hem of her nightdress, “You can watch,” and she begins to touch herself as she takes a sip of wine. 

Her folds are already slick and wet with her arousal. Returning the glass to its spot on the table Clare rests her hand on his shoulder, gripping the leather of his uniform as she slips another finger into her folds. 

The fact that Dredd is staring at her intently but that she cannot see his eyes stokes her fires. The sense of exhibitionism as if she is performing this act in front of a stranger is as intoxicating as the wine. Closing her eyes Clare tilts her head backwards and lets out a moan at the thought of his soft lips on her neck, his stubble burning her skin as he kisses a trail from her throat down between the valley of her breasts. She presses her knee even harder into his crotch, and she can feel his arousal. Amused, she starts to move her knee up and down against him as she increases the pace of her fingers, her thumb massaging her clit. 

The leather of his uniform creaks as Dredd shifts in his seat. She doesn’t need to look to know he is gripping the arms of the chairs to stop himself from disobeying her. Clare’s cries increase as she imagines those large hands on her thighs, his fingers drawing circles on the sensitive skin between her legs, and when she pictures one of his long, thick fingers entering her cunt, she snaps her head forward to look at Dredd, confused for a moment believing it to be him touching her. 

But on seeing him sat there rigidly, jaw tense as he grinds his teeth, she lets out a throaty laugh, amazed that her mind and body can trick her like that. She is aching and desperate for him as she pushes herself over the edge, her breaths coming out in pants and mews as she finally climaxes. Her hand at his shoulder is tense from gripping the leather so hard. Slowly, Claire's breathing returns to normal as she licks her juices from her fingers. 

Dredd runs the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. Smiling, Clare brings her mouth to his, his nostrils flaring at the taste and smell of her scent, and as she sweeps her tongue into his mouth, her hands reach for his Judges helmet. Pulling back she lifts the helmet and her eyes are immediately transfixed by his hazel ones, his pupils blown. Letting the Judges helmet fall to the floor with a thud, her face inches from his as her fingers lightly touch the hair at the nape of his neck before she draws her fingers along his jawline. His eyes close at her touch. Before she removes herself from his lap she places a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I think it's time you got out of that uniform,” she says with a grin as she steps back, arms crossed. 

Regaining his composure, Dredd remains seated, removing his gloves before bending forward to take off his boots. When he is ready to stand he pushes himself up in one swift and graceful movement, despite the fact his uniform weighs 40 or 50 pounds. To Dredd it is practically a second skin. Stepping away from the chair he removes his armor vest, dropping it to the floor beside him.

Clare watches with unabashed desire as he starts to undress. She loves how muscular and toned he is, but it’s not for show. Dredd isn’t like some Judges who bulk up muscle until they are just one lumbering mass, graceless and undignified. Dredd has built muscle for a purpose, to be lean but strong. When he reaches for the hem of his top, Clare takes her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes roam over his body, admiring the way his torso stretches and muscles move as he lifts the garment up and over his head. 

She swallows, her mouth dry, desperate to reach out and rake her nails from his chest down to his stomach. She doesn’t miss the small smirk on his lips as he unbuckles his belt, but she knows her reward will be all the sweeter if she can bend him to her will, make him beg. Her brow furrows slightly when she eyes the scar on the right side of his stomach, a reminder of how dangerous his job is. A genuine feeling of annoyance at not seeing him for three months bubbles in her chest, but she pushes it away, refusing to let the reality ruin their fun. Finally, removing his trousers, taking his underwear with them, Dredd steps out of the heap of leather at his feet, and he is a sight glorious to behold. Tall, tanned, and with an erection long and thick. 

With her eyes on the prize, Clare takes a breath, ignoring the fire burning in her belly that is telling her to put this whole game aside and to let him fuck her right then and there. 

“If you want to get what you came here for,” she says with a teasing smile as she slowly moves towards him, “you will need to use your words.” 

Reaching out a hand as she circles him, inspecting him with a critical eye, her fingers dance across his skin as she traces the freckles sprinkled across his back. 

“What did you come here for, Dredd?” Her hand continues the journey across his body as she faces him again. 

When he speaks his voice is deep and laced with lust. “To have you.”

Clare raises an eyebrow at his choice of words, her fingers now following the outline of his hip bone. “To have me. And how would you have me?” 

When he doesn’t answer she runs the nail of her index finger from the hilt of his erection to tip. His eyes close, and his body tenses, but she is still waiting for a reply. “Do you not understand the question? Is that why you refuse to answer me?”

“No ma’am, I understand.”

“Well then. What do you want to do with me?” Clare asks as she runs her finger back and forth along his length.

“To fuck you,” he bites out.

Clare pouts. “Is that all?” She flicks the tip of his erection with her finger. 

Surprised, Dredd’s eyes snap open, and he inhales sharply at the sudden pain to his sensitive parts. Clare doesn’t blink as they stare at one another, and she smiles as she does it again. 

Dredd groans and uncharacteristically for him words begin tumbling from his mouth, his breathing ragged. “I want to touch you, bury my face in your neck while I fuck you.” 

“You’re forgetting one important word,” Clare says as she roughly grabs hold of his cock. Dredd’s normally stoic expression has deserted him as she squeezes his throbbing erection. He is beginning to crumble. 

Clare smiles wryly. “After three months have you forgotten your manners?” 

“No,” he grunts. 

“Then ask me properly.”

“Please,” Dredd utters through clenched teeth, “please let me fuck you.” His body begins to quake, like a tightly wound coil ready to snap. 

Clare moves her hand up and down his length. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear that.” Teasing him as her strokes increase. “You know you need to speak clearly.”

Inhaling a shaky breath Dredd opens his eyes and looks at her intently. “Please,” he says loud and clear, “please let me touch you and fuck you. Please.”

Clare breaks eye contact, looking down at his cock in her small slender hands, pretending to think about it. She alternates between slow and fast strokes and Dredd lets out a guttural growl, revealing how close he is to orgasm. When she suddenly lets go of him, backing away, Dredd scowls at her but Clare is not afraid of him. He smiles when he sees the glint in her eye, her lips curling upwards in a mischievous smile.

“Come and take what you came for Judge.”

In two long strides, Dredd is on Clare. His hungry mouth assaults her lips as his large hands grasp at her waist, lifting her. 

Clare responds instantly by wrapping her legs around his middle as she grabs at his hair and groans into his mouth. Dredd knows the short distance to her bedroom well enough that he doesn’t break the kiss as he makes his way there with ease. 

When his legs hit the foot of the bed he lays Clare down gently and his mouth immediately begins devouring every inch of her, his journey starting at her neck, his teeth nipping at her delicate skin followed by the soothing caresses of his tongue. As he continues to kiss his way down her chest he hikes up her nightdress, his hand roaming across her stomach. Pausing briefly in his attentions he lifts the garment up and over Clare’s head, throwing it to the floor before his mouth is on her breasts once more. 

Clare’s skin feels as if it’s on fire at his touch, her own hands roaming across his broad back, the soft and gentle touches of earlier are long forgotten, grasping at his flesh as if she is trying to take a piece of him for a keepsake. When he takes her nipple in his mouth, his talented tongue swirling around the soft sensitive nub, she trembles before a cry escapes her throat as his teeth sink in. 

“Joe,” she breaths with immense pleasure, she can feel him smile against her skin.

“Guess I was mistaken in thinking you could satisfy your own needs,” his voice smug as he places kisses across her breast, “those three months must have been torture.”

Clare huffs in frustration, she can feel his erection near her thigh, and grabbing his hair she forces him to lift his head and look at her. “Fuck me. Now,” she demands petulantly. 

Taking hold of her wrists Dredd removes her hands from his hair and pins them to the bed above her head. Clare squirms underneath him but she is smiling. “Don’t you fucking dare tease me.” 

He gives her a roguish smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.” And in one swift movement, he lines himself up and sinks his throbbing erection into her slick wet folds.

Clare squeezes her eyes closed as her back arches into him, gasping as he fills her, opening her legs wider as he begins to thrust his hips back and forth. His movements are slow at first but as her moans and cries of his name increase in volume and intensity Dredd speeds up his pace. 

Screaming his name, Clare struggles against his hold, but his grip on her wrists increases and he buries his face into her neck, his breath hot and heavy against her skin as he growls in her ear. “Mine.”

Clare can’t deny it, but she is loathed to give up control easily, and to remind him of that she takes his earlobe between her teeth. Dredd groans. As she reaches the peak of her climax a jolt shoots through her body right to her core that strips her voice from her. All she can do is moan incomprehensibly but Dredd doesn’t stop thrusting into her until his orgasm follows, and when it does he collapses on top of her. Both panting heavily. 

Finally, coming down for the orgasmic high, Clare’s mind focuses on the feeling of Dredd’s body on top of hers, the weight of him pinning her to the bed, the skin to skin contact, her legs wrapped around his and how erotic it feels. He is still holding onto her wrists.

Half-heartedly she squirms underneath him, smiling, “You plan on letting me go?”

As Dredd lies there, a heavy silence envelops the room, the only movement from Dredd is his slow, deep breathing but when Clare tries to free herself from his hold he places a chaste kiss to her throat, his stubble scratchy against her skin.

“Never.”


End file.
